


Strange As News From Bree

by sabinelagrande



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Gen, POV Original Character, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-03
Updated: 2004-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:45:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short vignette on Aragorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange As News From Bree

A swirl of leather. A flash of steel. A black cloak. A hint of something just out of sight.

That's all you'd ever really see of him. Some said he wasn't much more than that. Just another no-account drifter, they reckoned him in Bree. Strider they called him. I never heard what his true name was. Old Barliman always let him be. He'd just sit there, smoking his pipe, drinking his ale, oblivious to everything.

Sure, we all tried to be nice to him. It was the only thing to do. But he didn't want our hospitality. He just wanted to be left to himself.

But for some reason, I just couldn't. There was something that always pulled me towards him. I knew there must be something different about him, but I couldn't for the life of me see what.

Finally I screwed up my courage. I went to the door of his room, resolved to knock right on it and have a talk with this Strider. Determined, I raised my arm. Then I heard it. I could hardly believe it. He was singing, really singing, singing low and sweet. He was using words I had never heard before, but I knew it must be something of great beauty and great sadness. I stood there like a fool, wondering what I was doing. But I couldn't help myself. I had to know something about this man.

Quietly, I crept out of the tavern. I hid myself quietly as I could in the bushes underneath his window and looked carefully through the glass.

I almost fell out of my bush. He was completely changed. Here this dark ranger was, uncloaked, sitting gracefully on his bed like some great thain on a throne. Carefully, he drew out his sword. It was broken off just past the hilt. He took out each piece gingerly and polished it, still singing the low, sad song.

I left with more questions than when I came. I had to know more.

But then he was gone. Took up with some shady characters from the Shire. Queer folk, if you ask me. I never saw him again. I can't quite seem to pull him out of my mind though.

Now don't you go laughing at me. You asked for a bit of a story, and I gave you one. You just watch- I bet he was somebody important, gone off into hiding. I bet my ranger'll have some part in all this before the end. Then you'll see.


End file.
